


Reminds Me of You

by goingtothetardis



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Adventure, F/M, Introspection, Meddling TARDIS, Nine's leather jacket - Freeform, Sexual Tension, irritation, swamps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-07
Updated: 2016-10-07
Packaged: 2018-08-19 23:27:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8228348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goingtothetardis/pseuds/goingtothetardis
Summary: After a long day, Rose takes some time to herself away from the Doctor, and the TARDIS gives her something she thought was lost.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is for rorygiimore (on tumblr) who was a winner of my 500 follower fic giveaway I did a while back. (Woo! This is the last one!) First of all, thank you for your patience with me, and second, thanks for letting me adjust the prompt. 
> 
> The original prompt was a continuation of [this drabble](http://goingtothetardis.tumblr.com/post/139684242742/a-reminder-a-memory) with [”I love anything that has ten x Rose mentioning ninth tbh”], but my muse just wasn’t having it. Instead, I wrote something completely different, but it still involves the leather jacket and a reference to Nine. I really, really hope you like it!!
> 
> This is entirely unbeta'd with the exception of a tiny bit of help from Jeeno2, so please excuse any and all mistakes.

Six hours. Well, five hours and thirty seven minutes, according to the Doctor’s latest calculations, but it’s easier for her to just to round up. 

That’s how long Rose has been following the Doctor’s sorry arse through the swamps of Drepliblo Sep Kloxin.

The swamps the Doctor had casually forgotten to mention covered ninety-eight percent of the planet’s surface. 

Where they’d been unceremoniously dumped into after their arrest, miles and miles from the TARDIS, when the Doctor _accidentally_ offended one of the tribe’s chiefs by running off with his gob. Again. 

Where the locals of Drepliblo Sep Kloxin just happened to make their homes as intolerant swamp dwelling creatures.

And most importantly, where Rose and the Doctor are currently trudging through in order to get back to the TARDIS after their abrupt release from prison, when the tribal chiefs had listened to _Rose’s_ pleas of innocence instead of the Doctor’s. Upon release, they’d been, for lack of a better term, kicked to the street with another banishment over their heads with no offers of assistance to return to their ship. 

And so, for almost six hours, Rose has been trailing the Doctor through the never-ending muck in long-since destroyed trainers, jeans, and a hoodie while he listens to the call of the TARDIS in his mind to guide them home. It’s something akin to the Dead Marshes of Middle Earth, and Rose is less than enchanted by this particular aspect of time and space. 

During this entire… _experience_ , the only food the Doctor has managed to unearth from the unknown depths of his pockets is a pair of questionable looking bananas -- _”They’re perfectly fine, Rose. Haven’t I told you about my transdimensional pockets and how I’ve calibrated the air inside to to preserve food? Can you imagine the stench if something went off?”_ \-- one of which she’d grabbed and had eaten hastily without speaking. 

Throughout their walk, the Doctor has yammered on and on about the many brilliant biological masterpieces found within the swamps on Drepliblo Sep Kloxin, both creatures and microorganisms alike. He’s marched on, impervious to the wet sludge slurping through his trainers and the way the damp and muck have slowly engulfed his clothing, while Rose feels as though the heaviness of her saturated clothing slows her more and more, about to pull her under as if she wears a ball and chain around her ankles. In addition, she’s had to internally calm her nerves at every inexplicable brush of a solid touch against her legs. More than once she’s screamed in panic, only to have the Doctor rationally explain her fears away. 

“Harmless creatures simply curious about her biological essence” is one line she just can’t quite get on board with. 

The Doctor continuously attempts to present Rose with an vicious kind of optimism about their situation, and with each squelch of a shoe and upbeat word of encouragement, her mood plummets further south. There’s a lot Rose Tyler can endure, but living as a swamp creature, hangry and cold with any number of mysterious creatures lurking about her ankles, is not one she accepts without reason. 

He’s offered his coat, but she quickly returned it when it hindered rather than helped. He’s offered to carry her on his back, but she declined his offer, telling him Rose Tyler can walk for herself, thank you very much. He’s called her stubborn. She’s blamed him for landing them in the middle of a swamp. 

They’ve settled into an uneasy silence, and while part of Rose wants to forgive and forget, each exhausting step she takes reminds her that this is the Doctor’s fault, and the flame of stubbornness in her soul prevails and fuels her anger. 

On and on they walk. 

**& &&**

Every step now is an effort, and she’s slipped roughly into the quagmire several times, grudgingly accepting his offered hand to help her back on her feet. She feels the Doctor’s frequent and concerned gaze boring a hole into the side of her head. 

“What?” she asks, the question dripping with annoyance.

The Doctor is quiet for a moment, as if he’s carefully choosing his words to avoid her wrath. “Are you alright, Rose?”

Rose seethes silently to herself before answering. “Does it _look_ like I’m alright? We’ve been bloody walking through this _fucking_ swamp for hours, Doctor.” His eyes widen briefly at her uncharacteristic use of vulgar language, but she barrels on. “I’m cold and wet and hungry and exhausted. I can barely feel my feet anymore, and I feel like if I take another step, I’ll collapse into this bloody swamp and never get up. I’m sorry it’s so hard for my stupid ape body to keep up with your superior Time Lord impressiveness.” She’s breathing heavily, but continues on nonetheless. “An’ my new trainers – _my favorite jeans_ – they’re all going straight to the bin when we get back.”

“Rose, you’re _not_ a stupid ape, and you _know_ I offered to–” 

“I don’t want your help, Doctor.” She sighs, trying to ignore the way his mouth snaps closed and his jaw clenches. “Just… How much further?”

“Should only be a few more minutes, just around that copse of trees.” His voice has _finally_ lost its enthusiastic edge, and he falls silent after answering.

Heartened by the news, Rose glances around and is pleased to realize that she vaguely recognizes the scenery. And when the TARDIS comes into view as they round the bend, she’s filled with one last burst of energy to trudge the last few steps to the ship. She pulls her TARDIS key out from under her shirt, unlocks the door, and steps inside. When the TARDIS console pulses in greeting, Rose almost cries in relief. 

Without looking at the Doctor, Rose shucks her hoodie and shirt, pops the button off her jeans, and unzips. She kicks off her shoes and pulls down her trousers, dumping them in a messy pile on the floor, until she’s standing with her back facing the Doctor in nothing but her knickers and bra. The Doctor lets out a strangled gasp of surprise at Rose’s lack of modesty, but all she cares about is never having to look at the swamp-drenched clothes again. Already it’s a simple relief just to be rid of them, and she’s thankful when the ship warms the air around her to stave off a chill. 

Ignoring the Doctor and leaving the pile of clothes on the floor for him to deal with, Rose stalks up the ramp and down the corridor to her room. In the corridor, she hesitates for a moment, trying to decide if she’d rather shower or eat first, but an almost nauseating rumble from her stomach reminds her it’s been hours since she’s eaten anything of substance or had anything to drink. Begging the ship to keep the Doctor away, Rose makes a decision and heads to the galley.

Making quick work of a turkey sandwich, a glass of chocolate milk, and several glasses of water, Rose’s stomach finally feels somewhat contented. At least enough so she can take a long bath and wash the unfortunate adventures of the day from her body. Leaning against the counter while sipping her water, Rose sighs. Perhaps she’d been a bit too harsh with the Doctor in her hungry and exhausted state of being. 

For a moment she considers finding him and apologizing for her attitude but then remembers she’s still only wearing her underclothes and reeks of swamp. Maybe after a bath. The lights in the galley flicker in agreement and Rose looks up at the ceiling. 

“Time for a bath, then, yeah?” she asks the TARDIS. 

The lights flicker once more.

**& &&**

An hour and a half later, Rose stretches languorously in her room after her bath. Her sour mood is greatly improved thanks to the TARDIS’s abilities to pamper her senseless. It’s like the ship is determined to make up for any grievance her Time Lord has caused Rose, and, well… Rose isn’t one to say no to a bath that never gets cold or grungy and bath things that make her skin silky smooth and glow like she’s just been exfoliated and buffed. The TARDIS even played a few of her favorite romcoms from the new telly over her bathtub, and she let the water and bath salts soothe her aching muscles. 

Despite the physically demanding day she’s just experienced, Rose isn’t quite ready for sleep. She’s somewhat agitated with how she left things with the Doctor but isn’t quite in the mood to see him yet, so she decides to wander about the wardrobe room for a while before going to bed. On previous occasions, the TARDIS has made a door directly from her room to the wardrobe room, and after Rose slips on a dressing gown, she finds the familiar door along her wall once more. With a smile, Rose runs her hand along the door as she passes through, sending silent thanks to the ship. 

Once in the wardrobe, Rose pauses for a moment, trying to decide where to spend her time. Over time, the room has become her place of refuge when she needs some time to herself for a few human moments. Sometimes she plays dress up with historical and futuristic clothing from Earth and other places from around the universe, and other times, she dresses in the most ridiculous outfit she can find and relaxes on a chaise lounge, drinking tea and watching trashy telly. 

She’s been drawn to the room ever since the Doctor first sent her there before their first trip to Cardiff. Something about the untold stories in all the clothes enchanted her, and after several visits, the TARDIS created a little alcove especially for her, one she had a feeling the Doctor wasn’t privy to.

Rose heads for that alcove now, taking her time along the way to sift through some new racks of clothes the TARDIS has moved around since her last visit. Nothing is ever in the same place in the wardrobe room, but if there’s something she wants, the TARDIS always brings it out for her. 

Reaching the hidden alcove, Rose is surprised to find a rack filled with several unusual outfits. For a moment, she wonders why the TARDIS has chosen to provide her with this particularly eclectic collection of clothing, but when she spots a very familiar leather jacket hanging on the end, she gasps. 

“No… These can’t be… Are they?” she asks the TARDIS. 

Once again, the ship answers with blinking lights. Rose smiles widely before skipping immediately to the Doctor’s battered leather jacket and pulling it off the hanger. Rose’s eyes fill with tears as she buries her face inside the lining of the jacket, remembering her first Doctor with his steely-blue eyes and crooked smile and breathing in his lingering scent, which is simultaneously so familiar and so different from her current Doctor’s. 

In a flurry of motion, Rose sheds her dressing gown and dons the Doctor’s leather jacket over her naked body, hugging the too-long sleeves around herself. She ignores the other outfits on the rack (for now) and collapses on the chaise lounge, content to simply drift in her thoughts and memories of her first Doctor. Oh, she misses him and always will, but she knows he’s still there in her new Doctor, and she marvels at how certain she is in that knowledge. 

Rose wonders what her current Doctor would think if he saw her now, curled up in his previous form’s jacket, completely starkers, and the thought makes her smirk. Despite the lack of action on his part, as he seems insistent to stay firmly in the ‘friend zone’, she _knows_ he’s attracted to her, in ways more than just physical, just as much as she’s attracted to him. She imagines he’d babble incoherently and either do that telling thing where he plays with his ear or make a mess out of his hair in his agitation. And be simultaneously jealous. Rose rolls her eyes at her prediction and wonders if she should test her theory. 

The lights flicker on and off again, and Rose laughs out loud. “But maybe with some clothes on, yeah?” The ship answers with another flicker of lights, but this time one light remains on, highlighting a small stack of clothing on the vanity. 

Rose bites her lip and heaves herself off the lounge, walking over to inspect the clothes. She finds a tiny pair of brown sleep shorts with blue pinstripes and a matching blue camisole. Rose blushes and runs her hands down her face in exasperation. “Really!?” The lights flicker again, and Rose feels the strangest sensation of amusement in her mind, like the TARDIS is laughing. 

“Is this so he won’t get jealous?” There’s that feeling again. “They’re a bit short, yeah?” Rose feels a firm sense of disagreement from the ship. 

“Well, s’your fault if he doesn’t like ‘em.” Rose sheds the leather jacket and quickly dresses in the shorts and cami, ignoring the fact that the outfit most definitely did _not_ include knickers. She assumes it’s alright for her to take the leather jacket with her when she leaves, so she carefully puts it back on after dressing. 

The rack of outfits quickly catches her attention again, and this time she walks over to inspect the Doctor’s former fashion choices. Within moments, she’s giggling as she studies each outfit. There’s plaid, velvet – _so much velvet_ – ruffles, bowties and silk, hats, scarves – _it’s so long_ – and a cricket outfit, of all things, perfectly preppy and– _Is that a piece of celery?_ Rose falls into hysterical laughter, however, when she spots the technicolor rainbow outfit of the Doctor’s sixth self, laughing harder when she feels the TARDIS’s amusement mixing with hers. “How’d you let him get away with that one, huh, girl?” 

More giggles escape when Rose spots the question mark outfits of the Doctor’s seventh self, and by the time she finds the Victorian velvet of his eighth self, tears of laughter stream down her face as she attempts to catch her breath. With each outfit, the face of the Doctor who wore it flashes briefly in her mind, and she finds she has a much greater appreciation and understanding of the Doctor from this brief experience. 

When Rose’s stomach growls once more, she quickly grabs the long, multicolored scarf and shoves it in a pocket. The laughter has helped her get over any lingering irritation against the Doctor, and she’s ready to spend the rest of the evening with him before she goes to bed. On the way back to her room, Rose trails her fingers along the wall, thanking the TARDIS. 

The lights flicker warmly in response.

**& &&**

For his part, the Doctor has carefully avoided Rose’s room since their return to the TARDIS. She’d been furious – and rightly so – after the day’s botched excursion. He sighs, remembering how he’d _intended_ to take them to a tiny planet with pristine beaches with pink sand. Drepliblo Sep Kloxin, however, was the exact opposite of that with its never ending swamps, and after several hours of dragging herself through the slime with nothing to drink and nary a bite to eat, Rose has every reason to be properly angry. He regrets not being more prepared for such an adventure, since it’s not infrequent that they wind up in less than ideal situations.

After she’d violently removed her clothes and stalked away in nothing but her underthings – the image of which he’s still desperately trying to erase from his mind – he’d been bombarded with a torrent of chastisement from the TARDIS. The wave of it had almost thrown him to the grating, and with an irritated scowl, he’d scooped up her clothes, sent the ship into the Vortex, and stalked to his room where he’d discarded the lot of their clothes into a pile in the corner and taken a long, hot shower. 

For the last few hours, he’s been wandering aimlessly through the ship, impatiently waiting for Rose to make an appearance so he can issue an apology laden with promises of beaches and relaxation in the sun. He’s tried reading, but his thoughts keep flitting back to the tantalizing image of Rose walking away from him. He’s tried tinkering in his workshop, but again, his mind continues to linger in dangerous territory. 

Passing the galley for the sixth time, he decides to pop in and make some banana pancakes. The TARDIS seems to have gotten over her irritation with him, as he finds all the ingredients waiting for him on the countertop. Water boils in the kettle, and after a pause, he prepares two cups of tea in hopes that Rose might deem it acceptable to be in his presence again. 

He’s whisking the ingredients in the bowl when a soft “Oh!” from behind him pulls him from his task. The Doctor turns to find Rose standing just past the entrance to the galley wearing what looks like nothing save for his old leather jacket. 

The one that belonged to his _previous self_. 

In an instant, all the things he’s been planning to say to Rose disappear from his mind as he focuses on what she’s wearing. 

_How?_

_Why?_

“Doctor? You alrigh’?” Rose asks. 

He realizes he’s staring and drags his gaze from the expansive view of her muscular legs, over the jacket, and to her face. His eyes narrow when she bites her lower lip and blinks innocently at him a few times. 

An irrational flash of jealousy zips down his spine. “Rose,” he says quietly. “Where did you find that?”

Her eyes widen slightly at the dangerously low tenor of his voice. “The– The wardrobe room. The TARDIS. She–”

“The _TARDIS_ gave you that?” He feels his ship’s smug reaction surge through his mind, and he scowls in irritation before piercing Rose with a sharp look. “What? Is _my_ coat not good enough for you anymore?”

She flushes, and he’s instantly distracted by the way her skin flushes below his old jacket. As if in a dream, his feet acting independently from his mind, he begins to walk toward Rose, who hugs the leather jacket tightly around herself. The sleeves are clearly too long with the way it’s bunched up her arms, and the bottom hem hovers just above her mid thigh. 

It’s strange, this feeling. This irrational jealousy mixed with a strange possessiveness that comes from seeing Rose wearing his clothes, especially when it’s something that belonged to his old self. Someone he thought Rose had moved on from. For a moment, he wonders if she misses the old him, wishes he could come back, and there’s an inexplicable urge to prove to her that he’s the same man. Everything the old him was _and more._

As he walks toward Rose, she backs up a few steps until her back presses up against the wall. He stops in front of her, clearly in her personal bubble as her eyes dart nervously from his face to the empty space beside him. He’s determined to capture her gaze, and when he does, he’s pleased at how quickly her pupils dilate in response to his uncharacteristically bold overtures. 

“Rose?” he asks.

“Yeah?” Her response is breathy and quiet.

“I asked you a question.” His hands are clenched tightly at his side, his body radiating tension. 

Rose glares back at him. “Are you jealous, Doctor?”

He glares back. “What if I am?” She opens her mouth to speak, but he places two fingers on her lips, effectively shushing her. He slowly drags his fingers from her lips and along the edge of her jaw, relishing in the sound of her sharp intake of breath. “I thought you’d accepted me, this me.”

There’s a moment when neither of them breathe, when the future of their relationship balances on the precipice of what happens next. A part of him, the powerful force that always holds back, resists the action, but the Doctor ignores it and continues trailing his fingers down her jaw and along her neck, until they brush along her collarbone under the top of the jacket. 

“I– I have. Accepted you, that is.” Her voice shakes. “S’just, this jacket reminds me of you.”

His fingers grow more bold as they slip further down the top of her chest, and he’s surprised when they encounter fabric. “Of the old me? Or this me?”

He steps closer and grasps the lapels of the jacket with both hands and shoves it gently off her shoulders. When he sees what she’s wearing – pinstriped sleep shorts and a matching blue camisole – he takes a step back in surprise. 

Rose, with an exasperated roll of her eyes, shrugs the jacket off her shoulders and lets it fall with a soft thud to the floor behind her. She steps forward to meet the Doctor and tugs gently on his tie. “You. _All of you_ , you plonker. Doesn’t matter which you.” She pauses before shooting him a wide smile. “Now, are you going to kiss me or what?”

With a growl, the Doctor steps forward and pushes Rose back against the wall. He wraps one arm around her lower back, pulling her close to his body, and cups the back of her head with the other before lowering his lips to hers. 

_Finally._

Their lips move together, hers soft and full beneath his. He wastes no time with tasting her with his tongue before she opens her mouth willingly beneath his. For several breathtaking moments they kiss with a certain kind of urgently, as if this is their one and only chance to kiss, as if this is the only moment such behavior is allowed. They’re interrupted, however, when a loud growl from Rose’s stomach reverberates between them. 

With a groan of frustration, Rose pulls her mouth away from his and grins wryly. “Maybe I should, uh, eat something before we… Well, before we continue.” She blushes.

“So we’re continuing, then?” He can’t hide the hopeful twinge to his voice.

“Yes.” She nods firmly, and he smiles.

“Brilliant! Well, I was about to cook up some banana pancakes before you…” He gestures along the length of Rose’s body. “Before you interrupted me wearing _that_ ,” he says, nodding darkly at the leather jacket lying on the floor. 

Rose smirks and picks it up, quickly slipping her arms back through the sleeves again. “Oh, Doctor?” He pauses curiously as she searches for something in the pocket, and his jaw drops when she pulls out a very familiar scarf. “I think your suit needs something a bit…” She chews on her bottom lip as she artfully wraps the scarf around his neck. “A bit more old school.”

“What!?”


End file.
